Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(43)

“Maybe.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Could we come back with some pictures?” Lance asked. Why didn’t I think to bring a photo of my dad?

Deep down, he didn’t want to own the possibility that the sheriff was right.

Abigail thought about his question for a few seconds. “Did Crystal really kill herself?”

“That will be for the medical examiner to determine,” Lance said.

“I heard her daughter’s body was found.” Abigail picked up a small pair of shears from the coffee table. She clipped the dead head of a flower from the arrangement in front of her. “A reporter on the news speculated that’s why she did it.”

“You sound like you don’t believe it,” Morgan said.

“Crystal wasn’t a very good mother,” Abigail said. “She never put Mary’s needs before hers. Most of the time, her child seemed like an afterthought. Mary had been gone for weeks before Crystal reported her missing. It’s not like she’s been pining away for her lost child for the last two decades.”

“Mary was murdered,” Lance said. “It’s her death we’re investigating.”

Abigail paused, pruners hovering in midair. “We all thought Mary left for greener pastures. She hated it here. All she ever talked about was getting out of town.”

“Do you know of anyone in Mary’s or Crystal’s lives back then who could have been a threat?” Lance asked.

“Crystal’s husband, Warren, comes to mind.” Abigail ferreted out another limp bloom and cut it off. “Crystal married him when Mary was about ten. I always thought he had the wrong sort of interest in that little girl, if you know what I mean.”

Lance’s gut twisted. “You think Warren Fox abused Mary?”

Warren Fox shot to the top of Lance’s mental list.

“Yes. And that’s what I told Crystal.” Abigail shook her shears at Morgan. “But that woman was too wrapped up in herself. I don’t know whether she didn’t want to believe it or if she just didn’t care all that much. Back then, Warren was a truck driver. He brought home cash, and cash made Crystal happy.”

Morgan looked up from her notes. “What makes you think Warren molested Mary?”

“The way he looked at that child made my skin crawl.” Frowning, Abigail shifted some greenery. “Mary would do anything to stay out of his reach. She started acting out shortly after the marriage, and she made sexual jokes she was entirely too young to understand. I put two and two together. It wasn’t rocket science. Besides, owning and operating a low-end motel has given me a fairly good creep detector.”

I’ll bet.

The idea turned Lance’s stomach. If it were true, maybe Mary had threatened to rat out Warren.

“What happened to Warren?” He didn’t remember seeing a man’s clothes or other personal belongings in Crystal’s house.

“A few years ago, he got fired for drinking on the job. So naturally, he started drinking more, which led to him beating Crystal. She kicked him out. At one point, she had a restraining order against him, but it expired. He works at the county recycling center now.” Abigail deadheaded another flower stalk. The wilted head fell to the table.

“Did Mary ever say anything to you to confirm Warren was molesting her?” Morgan’s pen waited poised over her notebook.

“No.” Abigail shook her head. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if Mary had tried to blackmail him. She was the scheming sort.”

Morgan made more notes. “In the weeks before she died, did Mary bring anyone in particular to the motel?”

“She had regulars.” Abigail nodded. “I worked the registration desk back then too. I might be old, but my memory is still intact.”

Lance wondered if scheming Mary could have blackmailed any other clients. “Did any of Mary’s clients seem violent? Did you ever see her with bruises afterward?”

“There was this one man. Mary said he liked it rough, and she always looked shaken when he was through with her. What was his name?” Abigail tapped her shears in her palm. “Most of Mary’s clients would use fake names. You have no idea how many men register in my hotel as Mr. Smith.”

“You don’t check driver’s licenses?” Morgan asked.

“Honey”—Abigail’s tone shifted to aren’t-you-sweet—“most people who rent rooms by the hour generally prefer anonymous cash transactions.”

“What do you remember about this man?” Lance asked.

“He used a ridiculous fake name. It stood out.” She pressed her forefinger to her pursed lips; then her face brightened. “Mr. Joshua.” Her eyes rolled in a what-an-idiot expression. “Those Lethal Weapon movies were really big back then, with all their martial arts fighting. But this guy didn’t look like he could fight traffic. He was too clean cut.”

Morgan leaned forward. “Would you recognize a picture of him?”

“I might,” Abigail said.

“Mary was reported missing in August 1994. We’d like to know about the clients she entertained that month. Do you keep old registration information?” Lance asked.

“Yes.” Abigail nodded. “Back then I still used a paper system, but I kept everything in the storage room. I keep meaning to clean it out. There’s no reason to keep records that old, but I never seem to get around to it even though I’m there most evenings.”